from Decennia, the poetry collection by Jan Chronister, to be published in July 2020
ISBN (paperback) 978-1-925536-98-0
ISBN (eBook) 978-1-925536-99-7
to purchase, click here for paperback / Amazon Kindle / Barnes and Noble Nook / Kobobooks / iBookstore / ePub
I launch rockets,
explore the space
inside my head.
from Exploration
I am from damp basements
rollerskating to “Blue Moon,”
from Origins
I feel
extinct, a species vanished
from a hostile world.
from Sign of the Times
The “white” room is full
so we sit on the front steps
until they call her name.
from Segregation
Wally checks our garbage
for treasure before we
toss it in the pit.
from At the Dump
she does not come.
She has run away
hides in the woods
from Runaway
everything in town closed
Good Friday from noon to three.
from Snowbound
raining, raining
everything wet
short circuits and static
from Woodstock
No store-bought diapers
or washing machine
from Paradise Lost
I would definitely buy a clothes dryer.
In winter our house looks like
Mussolini’s execution—
from You May Already Have Won
My hip hit sand, pelvis tilted like
Earth’s axis, ordaining a life
of therapy
from Rogue Planet
she was short and stout
lived a lidded life
far beyond that summer day
from Family Reunion
Cops
at the door with a warrant,
drugs in the bedroom closet
from Tallahassee Morning
On New Year’s Eve local boys
shoot fireworks from rotting docks.
from All Walt Disney’s Fault
I grab duct tape
wrap up my arm, drive 25 miles
to the hospital.
from Refinishing
I see the young queen’s train
pass by a cheering crowd in Canada.
from Finding Peace on Prince Edward Island
Because the thought of spending my life with you
suffocated my heart.
from Because
Panty hose slipped easily between notebooks
while strolling through Woolworth’s
from Thou Shalt Not
I pleaded not guilty
paid a hefty fine,
was never convicted
from Horticulture
Being 38
can we still wonder
or are we supposed to KNOW?
from Is This a Mid-life Crisis?
